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“Are you sure? I’ve got time to change, right?”
“Yes, you do. But I’d be willing to bet all the money I have you don’t need to. Buzz me up, Autumn.”
For a second I don’t think she’s going to but she then lets out a sigh, and a moment later, the door unlocks.
I take the elevator this time, striding toward it as quickly as I can, eager to see Autumn so I can comfort her and tell her she’s beautiful.
There’s no part of me that believes what she’s saying. She could wear anything – literally anything – and I’d still find her enthralling.
She must’ve unlocked her door when she buzzed me in. I push the door open, to find her standing at the end of the hallway, staring at me with wide eyes, expecting the worst.
My manhood solidifies, hot fire rushing up my shaft, my head aching and leaking precome.
She’s wearing a silver dress with a little patter inlaid into the fabric, the cut just above her knee and high on her cleavage, outlining the shape of her irresistible sexuality without giving anything away.
Her hair is partially tamed, flowing down her shoulders, with enough messiness to make her look vivacious and sexy.
“I told you,” she says, fidgeting. “I never wear stuff like this.”
I force myself to move slowly as I walk toward her.
Otherwise, my resolve will snap and I’ll shove her up against the wall, and have her soaking her panties before we’ve even gone to dinner. I’ll free my throbbing dick and force it into her tight hole, and I can’t do that until she knows I want her pregnant. No, I don’t want her pregnant, I need her pregnant with my child.
“You look incredible,” I snarl, smoothing my hands as gently as I can around her hips. “You look hot. I’m the luckiest man in the world, having a girlfriend like you.”
“Really?” She gasps.
“Really,” I growl, showing her my teeth in a toothy grin.
“Say it again,” she says, with a laugh.
“You look incredible…”
“Not that.” She lays her hand on my chest, her touch lighting me up. “The part about me being your girlfriend.”
“You’re my girlfriend,” I smirk as I lower my lips to hers. “And I’m your boyfriend. And I’m the luckiest bastard who ever lived.”
She melts against me, gifting me with one of those cock jerking whimpers as our lips collide.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Autumn
“Well, this is a surprise,” I say, as Asher pulls the car up outside the National History Museum. “I love this place. But I didn’t know they did nighttime dining.”
“They don’t,” he says, his tone growing husky when he turns to face me.
He looks so freaking handsome, his suit jacket hugging his toned body, his eyes glimmering with that just-Asher seriousness.
“But I was thinking about what I said, about showing you off, and I decided… screw that. I want you all to myself. And what better place to do it? History is what brought us together.”
“I thought a text brought us together.” I laugh.
“That’s right,” he says quickly. “The wrong text. The right text. The accidental text. The perfect text. I’m so glad that date went badly and you happened to send the text to me, and not your friend.”
I lay my hand on his arm. “Me too.”
For a second there, I thought he was going to mention the Lincoln Memorial, and how the field trip was really where this all started. But of course, he isn’t, considering I was just a dorky teen in his eyes back then… if I was anything at all.
His forearm flexes under my hand. “But it’s a passion we both share. I read your work, remember. There’s no way you can write that well without having a passion for the subject.”
“Can we go inside?” I ask.
He grins, looking almost boyish for a second, brimming with excitement. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
We step from the car and Asher takes my hand. This is one of those pinch-myself-am-I-dreaming moments, but that’s not saying much with Asher.
Every moment is like that with him.
That’s why I can’t ruin this. The dream could become a nightmare if he knew the truth.
We walk up the steps and Asher holds the door open for me. I’ve been to this museum several times, but never after closing, and never with…
My feet falter when I see what he’s done.
He’s covered the reception area in red rose petals, candles flickering along the edges, the petals making a path that leads to the central area of the museum.
My belly swirls and for a moment I think a sob is going to escape me.
“When did you do all this?” I ask.
“Earlier today. Then I paid one of the employees to light the candles as we were approaching.”
“I didn’t even know they rented out the Museum for this.”
“They usually don’t, but I wanted it to be special. Do you like it?”
